Lyclean (4): Descent into the Underworld
Lyclean. (4) One day, Lyclean got drunk and beat his friend to death. No one knew—not even Lyclean himself—how someone so resistant to alcohol, who could down an entire jar of the strongest brew without a wobble, had ended up in such a state. He'd lost all reason, rampaged wildly, and in the end, taken his friend's life.
As a result, his friend had died by Lyclean's hand, and Lyclean himself felt endless guilt over that death. He wanted to bring his dead friend back to life.
"Reviving the dead? That's something out of legends, like the Dragon Maiden herself."
Someone who heard his story said that. Indeed, bringing the dead back to life was usually the stuff of impossible dreams. The companion of legendary heroes from ancient tales, the Dragon Maiden, did wield magic to resurrect the dead—but only because she was the proxy of the Life Goddess. No ordinary person could manage such a feat.
Yes. Ordinarily.
"Wouldn't the Sage of the Deep Forest know a way to revive the dead?"
"The Sage of the Deep Forest..."
"Oh, you haven't heard? It was a famous story from decades ago. The sage who left behind all sorts of prophecies. They say even the gods had no choice but to heed his words."
Lyclean nodded. He vaguely remembered one of his masters mentioning it long ago. The sage had been active even before Lyclean was born, leaving behind numerous prophecies.
"Where is the Sage of the Deep Forest?"
"In the Deep Forest, they say—but no one knows the exact location. Maybe the gods do."
At those words, Lyclean let out a small sigh. For some reason, the gods' influence had waned sharply over the past few decades, and there weren't many temples still operating normally. In the end, Lyclean headed to the Temple of the Life Goddess, which had always drawn crowds and retained its prestige.
Before that, though, he hadn't forgotten to use a precious magic scroll to preserve his friend's corpse, encasing it in a block of cold ice to prevent decay. Even if he succeeded in reviving him... well, it wouldn't do if the body rotted away to bones.
The priest at the Life Temple took one look at Lyclean's face and immediately told him about the Sage of the Deep Forest—as if he'd known from the start what Lyclean sought.
Heading into the forest where no sunlight pierced, Lyclean met the sage, shared a brief conversation, and received several items. The sage had told him the entrance to the underworld lay at the northernmost edge of the world, beyond the frozen sea.
Lyclean journeyed north, sometimes aided by giants, other times fending off attacks from fierce beasts and monsters, until he reached the continent's northern end—where the frozen sea churned with waves like knife blades. There, spanning the sea, was a black bridge. A bridge said to allow no return once crossed. Lyclean steeled himself against the fear rising in his chest and stepped onto it.
Thus, he came face-to-face with the gate to the underworld.
"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."
The words carved on the underworld's gate pierced Lyclean's heart like a sharp warning. Even as a hero, could he pass through the underworld? Could he safely retrieve his friend's soul?
Lyclean steadied his trembling heart and gazed once more at the gate. A black door affixed to pitch-dark rock. A terrifying door that gripped the soul with agony just by looking at it. Standing before it, Lyclean silently rolled up his sleeves and shoved the doors with all his might.
Even with strength said—perhaps exaggerated—to move mountains, it took ages to budge them. Half a day passed just to open a gap wide enough for one person. Lyclean poured every ounce of power into creating that space, slipped inside—and no sooner had he passed than the doors slammed shut behind him, the ones that had taken so long to open.
If he'd been even a moment slower... he'd have been crushed between those massive doors, split in two.
Lyclean wiped the cold sweat from his brow and began descending the stairs into the underworld.
How far had he gone into the pitch-black cave where he couldn't see an inch ahead? Relying on the faint glow of the magic lantern powered by a mana stone—one of the items from the Sage of the Deep Forest—Lyclean kept descending. How much time passed? About a day after passing the gate, the narrow, winding stairs gave way to a vast plaza.
And at the far end of that plaza stood a giant made of black rock. Unlike giants of flesh and blood, this one was carved from obsidian. The first guardian of the underworld. The Obsidian Giant. Talos.
He was the watcher with glowing red eyes who scrutinized every soul descending into the underworld, the blade that severed any intruder without permission.
Before Talos's gaze could turn to him, Lyclean quickly extinguished the lantern's light and held his breath. To proceed, he had to pass behind Talos—but a living body couldn't fool those eyes.
As if anticipating this, the Sage of the Deep Forest had given him an item to blind Talos. Lyclean carefully pulled it from his pocket: a small pouch with a thin string attached. The sage had said to light the string and throw it at Talos's head—it would briefly cover his eyes.
Half-doubting, Lyclean lit the string and hurled it toward Talos's face.
In that way, overcoming countless trials and perils, Lyclean descended into the depths of the underworld. The seven-layered hell each brought different torments with every descent, but strangely, after passing the grueling third layer—the hardest by far—it almost felt manageable.
The groans of the suffering souls in that harsh environment rattled him, but thanks to the earplugs from the sage and the method to find the right path, he pressed on without major trouble. Or perhaps the guardian of the third layer had been freakishly strong—that might have been the real issue.
The sage's items only helped blind Talos and cross the underworld's river. The rest of the layers he had to breach with his own power... which might explain the extra difficulty.
In any case, after conquering all seven layers, Lyclean—battered and broken—stood before the final door. According to the sage, the underworld gods lay beyond. If they pronounced death upon him, he'd perish without resistance.
But Lyclean trusted himself. And he trusted the sage. He believed the sage's words: that facing the underworld gods would let him revive his dead friend.
With that, Lyclean opened the door and stepped inside.
A courtroom carved entirely from pitch-black rock. Inside, three gods sat at their thrones, ready for judgment.
The king of the reapers, with a body of shadow wielding a massive scythe shrouded in death's aura: Thanatos.
The underworld judge, bearing the ledger of all lifespans and a mirror that revealed a soul's entire life: Moros.
The goddess of violent death, one hand holding the scales to weigh souls, the other a sword of judgment: Keres.
The three underworld overseers regarded Lyclean with cold stares. It was only natural. A living being reaching the depths of the underworld was unprecedented since its creation.
Had any one of them sentenced him to death, his body and soul would have parted without a fight. But they did not.
Though displeased by his living presence, they had no choice. The three overseers pointed to the corridor behind them—a hallway of black rock polished mirror-smooth.
Lyclean initially suspected a trap, but realized there must be a reason for death gods who could kill him instantly to bother with such theatrics. He followed their direction into the black rock corridor.
A smoothly hewn passage of black stone, reflecting his image like a mirror. As Lyclean advanced, he suddenly realized he wasn't walking alone.
No—physically, he was the only one in the corridor. But for some reason, beside his reflection on the walls appeared the figure of another person. A girl with black hair, existing only in the mirror-like walls, not in reality.
